


Seducere

by Makalaure



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: B2MeM 2016, Dark!Maedhros is my favourite Maedhros, Drama, Ficlet, Gen, mature themes, post-Thangorodrim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:04:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6153142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makalaure/pseuds/Makalaure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maedhros is a master of seduction. Written for B2MeM 2016.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seducere

Disclaimer: I don't own Tolkien's works.

Prompt: Voltaire said that it's not enough to conquer: one must learn to seduce. Write a story or poem or create artwork where seduction plays a central role.

Warnings for mature themes. Ten minute job, un-beta'd.

Seducere

He sits like a king and the scars on his face are badges of honour, not marks of failure. They are a reminder that he survived, by his own will or by Eru's. On his right wrist is strapped a fist of steel, wrought by his brother in a sweltering forge behind the fortress. His velvet mantle, draped over his stern shoulders, could have been dyed with blood, and boots of rough, dark leather clamp around his calves.  
  
His crown weighs down his uncle's head, but the advisors in the great hall have their eyes fixed on him; Maedhros does not need a crown to be a ruler. He leads people astray from their own thoughts, steals them away from their grief.  
  
On his right stands Maglor, his expression somewhere between grim and carefully blank. He may be the artist of the family, but he cannot lie as well as Maedhros can. He leans towards denial rather than lies, and that is his downfall. It is what prevents him from being –  
  
"Someone will have to take the Gap," says a counselor silkily.  
  
– _this_.  
  
Maedhros only blinks. He does not have to look at Maglor to convince him. The command is there, unspoken between them, almost palpable, almost alive.  
  
_I know guilt and not blood flows through your veins, no matter which mask you don._  
  
"I will." Maglor's voice does not waver.  
  
_That is right._  
  
The people in the hall shift uncomfortably, some staring at the slate floor, others suddenly becoming engrossed in the papers in their hands. In a corner, Curufin looks like he wants to say something – possibly protest – but seems to decide against it. He crosses his arms over his chest and curls his lip.  
  
_You will obey –_  
  
(Maglor he cannot seduce; he is too broken for such a tactic. Manipulation is a fair substitute. He will not leave Maedhros' side. Fools will remain loyal.)  
  
– _me._  
  
Maedhros rises, and the entire hall is at attention. He sweeps his gaze over the dark heads. Soldiers, every one of them, all but in name. Beams of pale sunlight pierce through the tall, glassless windows and touch their faces.  
  
He suppresses a smile.

_-finis-_


End file.
